“There's no bed in here. No threat that we'll do something we can't take back. Just two minutes we'll probably never have again...two minutes where we can both stop pretending the scars we can see are the only ones we have."~Drake”

“How many strokes does it take?""One. Two. Three.""Four. Five...""Six.""Seven. Eight.""Nine.""What if Daddy. Ten. Finds out what I did. Eleven. To his innocent little girl?""Twelve.""This is what you do to me. Feel it. Thirteen.""Fourteen.""Do What he says, Toni. Fifteen. Come."His heated lips curved against her ear. "Fifteen it is."~Drake”

“I like to think it's a nice trade off for wanting to kill everything. And, I do suck...but only for you and only if you ask nicely."~Drake”

“Damn, you kill a few people here and there and suddenly everyone thinks you're a trouble maker."~Drake”

“What?" his gruff voice scolded. "You were expecting to see Drake Junior?"He clucked his tongue at her."You have'nt even bought me dinner yet."~Drake”

“Only one comment seemed to perfectly fit her current situation. “I see dead people.”He leaned forward hands on his hips. “Me too. It’s the only explanation for what’s standing in front of me. Unless some high school kids broke into the anatomy closet and stole the classroom skeleton, stretched some cadaver skin over that bitch then cast an ancient ritual to animate it.” She laughed. For as much as she now disliked the bastard she had to admit he was amusing. “Did they do the same to that shit you’re wearing? You do realize it’s 2008 right?” She raised a hand. “Wait let me see if I can reach you using your own language. You do ken ‘tis year of our Lord two thousand and eight aye?”

“You were expecting to see Drake Junior?" He clucked his tongue at her. "You haven't even bought me dinner yet.”